A Downing Sickness
by SasorisMom
Summary: Kyle's sick and Stan decides to visit his boyfriend. But when he does, Kyle starts to say things that Stan just won't. . .STAN FOR! (see what I did there? ;P)


"Kyle!" A mascular voice shouted from somewhere down the stairs. I opened my eyes, blinking away the irritating buzz that surrounded my vision, my hearing, and my aching headache.

"Ssh! He's upstairs, sleeping I'm guessing", another voice answered the first. I could tell the other voice was a woman's and as my vision cleared away the dots, I knew it was my mom talking to Stan. I tried to sit up, then decided against it and just rolled over to my right side, grabbing my black phone and turning it on.

Three messages popped up instantaneously, followed by fifteen more, all from Stan, I noted silently. Laughing, I tried again to prop myself up on my elbow, and this time, it worked.

"May I please go upstairs to see him, ma'am?" The guy's voice asked pleasantly, and I snickered, recognizing this as Stan's. _He's always so polite with my mom_, I silently thought, making the last journey to a sitting position, and succeeding.

"Hm", my mom responded, seeming to be indeep thought, "well, I guess. Only if you promise not to wake him up! And no funny business, Stan! He's sick!" I could just picture my mom wiggling her finger at the other, her face close to cracking a smile like she always did with the two of us.

"I would never think of doing that, ma'am!" Now, I could picture Stan looking bashful or ashamed at my mom, although I knew for a fact that he never meant it Those two seemed to get along more often now that me and Stan were in high school.

Maybe it's the fact that we've grown up and matured. . .But then again, would mature teenagers throw toilet paper on Butter's dad's car? Would they all shit in a bag and throw it at the foreign exchnage student since he got back from the hospital? Would they listen to their fatass friend who always got them into trouble anyway? Probably not.

I sighed, and brought my knees up to my chest. _I haven't matured at all since we were children. . .And Stan's matured so much. . .He's changed to a tougher, lean, and muscular man, whereas I'm still a skinny, red headed, Jewish boy. . ._

I don't usually think about these things, but when it comes to Stan, I'm just so depressed and shocked with how the future has turned out. As I was thinking these things, I heard the stairs being trampled by elephants.

Without even a knock at my door, Stan barged into my room, looking out of breath and exasperated. "Hey, beautiful!" He smirked, walking into the room and closing the beige door behind him.

I smiled sadly and coughed. "I'm not beautiful, Stan. I'm a lanky, red-head freak. If anyone has any beauty in this room, it's you." I frowned, knowing my words were true.

Over the past years, Stan's hair had grown and been cut into a shaggy head of silky dark that fell into his eyes on occasions. His body was now taller than mine, and his physique matched that of a football player, to which he was. His dark blue eyes matched the rain whenever it did rain in South Park, and his voice resembled the voice of something angelic and pure.

On the other hand, I was still shorter than him and dressed like a lumberjack. Sure, I straightened my hair now and it looked better than before, but if it was humid out, my hair looked like Bobo the Clown's. My eyes looked like dieing grass that had been repainted with gress spray paint, and my face was covered in ugly little freckles that threatened to engulf me at any given moment.

Stan glared at me, causing my small and fragile frame to jump with suprise. The older sat down on the bed, moving me back a little. He held my hands in his, and looked at me with those deep blue eyes. "Kyle", he started with that voice of his, making me melt inside, "You are the most beautiful person I've met. You are an amazing specimen of the human race." I blush at this and he continues to speak. "I love your minty green eyes that speak of the adventures we've had together. I love your perfect skin of imperfections called freckles that make you adorable. I love your hair whether it's straight or up, and I'd love you if you were bald too. I love your voice of the angels above. But most of all, I love your personality, Kyle. You are the kindest, most gentle, and greatest person I've ever had the pleasure of meeting, and I'm so blessed to have you be mine, Kyle. . ."

At the hair discussion, I had started to cry, and by now, I was hiccupping as I cried hard, breaking contact with the other and wiping away the tears that had started to fall like a waterfall. Stan pushed my head into his chest, and I laid there crying as he pet my hair with his hands, and said, "Ssh, it's okay, Kyle. I'm sorry."

"D-don't b-be sor-ry", I cried into his chest. After the waterworks, I was still laying in his chest as I asked him, "Why did you say all that?"

"Cuz it's true", Stan replied, his gentle voice calming me done even more. "I love you, Kyle. I never want you to say things like that again."

I closed my eyes, and then felt the other tense. "Sorry", he whispered.

"For what?" I asked, looking up into his eyes.

Stan grinned widely. "I got you worked up when I promised your mom I wouldn't do that."

I laughed and Stan joined in. He leaned down after a second or two and kissed my lips gingerly. As he pulled away, I smiled too. "I'm sorry", I whispered after the older.

"For what?" It was his turn to ask.

"I'm sick and you kissed me", I looked up, grinning, and he grinned back.

"If we're both sick, at least I can come over and hang out with you. As long as it's only you, of course", he said, laughing at the last part. I laughed also, loving Stan even more.

_As long as he's here, I don't think I need to worry about anything. . ._


End file.
